


Be My Oxygen

by redeyedwrath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Camping, Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, Marshmallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6608872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeyedwrath/pseuds/redeyedwrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We had plans Derek! Romantic camping plans! With campfires! And probably awkward sex in a tent!" </p><p>Or, an AU where everything's alright and there are a lot of cuddles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be My Oxygen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [erciareyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erciareyes/gifts).



> So second Sterek fic, woohoo! These aren't getting to be as long as I want them to be, but I promise y'all there are longer fics in the making ^^
> 
> This was mostly born from my desire to have Derek being happy and [k1ngdragon](http://k1ngdragon.tumblr.com)'s late night gay rambles to me.
> 
> Written for [Rosie](http://erciareyes.tumblr.com), 'cause she is a lovely person and always ready to talk Sterek with me :p
> 
>  **Quick disclaimer:** English isn't my native language, so please forgive me if I make any mistakes

_Come sink into me_  
_And let me breathe you in_  
_I'll be your gravity_  
_You'll be my oxygen_

**\- Follow You, Bring Me the Horizon**

 

**-**

 

"Come back to bed Stiles," he hears from behind him, Derek's voice still rough with sleep. It sounds tempting, way too tempting, but Stiles squares his shoulders and pulls on his pants.

"No," he says, refusing to turn around. "We had plans Derek! Romantic camping plans! With campfires! And probably awkward sex in a tent!"

"We can do it later just- come back to bed."

Stiles glances back for a second, just a second and _shit._ Derek's lying on his back, the sunlight shining through the curtains making him look soft, looking up at Stiles through his eyelashes. Derek absently scratches a hand on his stomach, a thing he always does in the morning and Stiles can already feel himself giving in, because Derek looks so content and happy and he's lying in bed, naked and Stiles loves him.

"Derek." He's whining now, he knows he is, but Derek just smiles sleepily and reaches up for Stiles' arm, half-heartedly tugging him onto the bed. Stiles lets himself be pulled, he drops the jacket on the ground and pulls off his pants and Derek smiles against the back of his neck, tucking an arm against Stiles' stomach until they're pressed together.

"I hate you," Stiles mumbles into the soft sheets and he feels Derek's smile widening as he listens to the lie in Stiles' heartbeat.

Derek presses a kiss against the back of his neck and whispers, "No, you don't."

 

-

 

He wakes up to the sound of Derek growling, a low rumble that reverberates through Stiles' chest. He looks up, blinking a few times to make his head less groggy and he freezes when he sees the time on the alarm clock on their night stand.

"Derek," he says, digging his arm into Derek's stomach. "Derek, wake up! It's 6 fucking pm!"

Derek tightens his hold on Stiles, digging his nose further into the hairs at the nape of Stiles' neck and mumbles, "Just five more minutes."

Stiles blinks then and tries to turn around, struggling against Derek's arms who whines in the back of his throat. He barely resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only barely, because Derek is such a fucking drama queen.

"Dude, we need to eat something before you start hunting deer in your sleep."

He feels Derek wake up then, eyelashes fluttering over the skin of his neck before Derek rolls back, his head thrown over his arm. He looks like a weird cross between a porn actor and a model in a mattress catalogue and Stiles is torn between eating and kissing Derek all over.

"What time is it," Derek mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face in an attempt to rub the sleep away from his eyes.

"6:38 in the afternoon."

Derek shoots up then, eyes wide open as he looks at Stiles in betrayal. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

Stiles lets out a snort at that and Derek glares at him as he hops out of bed, rummaging through the drawers for some boxers - and damn, that ass - and half-tripping over the jacket he threw on the ground this morning.

"Have you even met sleepy you?" Stiles says indignantly. "If I'd known five years ago the biggest problem I'd have was getting you out of bed I'd have laughed, I'm not going to lie, but it's true dude!"

"Don't call me dude."

Derek glares, heavy eyebrows falling down and Stiles smirks as he stands up and walks around the bed to hit Derek's ass. "Whatever you say, honeybunny."

 

-

 

They settle on spaghetti for the evening, mostly because Stiles is lazy and spaghetti is the only thing Derek can cook without burning down the kitchen. He'd tried making a casserole once, and after one fire blanket and three calls from concerned neighbors, he'd ultimately given up and just glared at the burned dish until Stiles pressed him up against fridge and kissed him breathless, promising to order pizza.

When Stiles comes into the kitchen, Derek's already brewing coffee and Stiles just takes a moment to stare. Sometimes he still can't get over the fact that this is his life now: Derek brewing coffee for him in his boxers in the evening in the kitchen of their shared apartment.

He walks up behind Derek, wrapping his arms around Derek's waist and pecking his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck as Derek gives a content little rumble.

"See, this is why I love you."

Derek turns his head, raising an eyebrow before he smiles a little, the corner of his mouth turning up and it takes Stiles' breath away because _he_ made Derek do that, he made Derek smile.

"So you don't care about the sex then?" Derek asks, challenge written all over his face. Stiles rolls his eyes.

"That's just a bonus. I knew from the moment I saw your glaring face you'd handle my coffee maker very well," he says, lowering his voice near the end and wiggling his eyebrows as he slips his fingers into the waistband of Derek's boxers, grazing the skin before pulling up again.

Derek just sighs and gives him a cup of coffee, and Stiles pecks him as a silent 'thank you'. Derek smiles and deepens the kiss a little, before turning towards the cupboards and grabbing a pan, filling it with hot water as Stiles sits down on the counter, steaming cup of coffee in hand.

He loves watching Derek cook. There's just something about it that makes him feel warm, from the tiny smiles that appear on Derek's face whenever he does something right to the care-free look on his face. He thinks back to a time when that wasn't the case, when Scott was bitten and Derek was their prime suspect and he can't help but smile at how times have changed.

"I'm going to shower," Stiles says when he's finished the coffee and Derek hums back noncommittally, too engrossed in cooking spaghetti.

Stiles smiles, takes one look at Derek's ass to admire it again - because _damn_ \- and walks off to the bathroom.

 

-

 

The smell of tomato sauce hits him when he walks out, towel slung around his waist. He walks into the kitchen, just to check if Derek hasn't accidentally set anything on fire, but he isn't there anymore.

"Derek?"

"In here!" comes from their bedroom and Stiles rolls his eyes before walking back, the carpet soft against his feet.

When he opens the door, Derek's sitting in their bed, a plate of spaghetti on his lap and another one for Stiles on their night stand. Stiles smiles, grabs a pair of boxers and puts them on before sitting down next to Derek, leaning into him a bit because Derek's a fucking furnace and Stiles is perpetually frozen.

"Thanks for making dinner, sweetcheeks," Stiles says and Derek huffs out a silent laugh before glaring at him. "Dude, you totally thought that was funny! Don't try to hide it from me, I know everything."

He points his finger accusingly at Derek's face, shrieking as Derek nips at it. Derek just rolls his eyes and keeps eating the spaghetti, motioning for Stiles to do the same. Stiles sticks out his tongue - because he's very mature, thank you very much - but keeps on eating anyways.

“Tomorrow,” he says, mouth stuffed full with spaghetti. Derek crinkles his nose in disgust. “Tomorrow, we’re going camping. And not even your sweet ass will stop me.”

Derek laughs quietly, eyes sparkling as he looks over at Stiles. There’s a drop of tomato sauce in his beard and Stiles is tempted to lick it off, but he keeps still, eyes roving over Derek’s face as he drops it forward, grinning.

“Is that a challenge?”

Stiles licks off the sauce, just for that comment.

 

-

 

“Are we there yet?” Derek asks for the thirtieth time in probably twelve seconds and Stiles has to resist the urge to turn around and punch him. They’re both wearing boots and hiking jackets – even though Derek probably doesn’t need them – and they’ve been walking around for the past hour. Derek’s been whining for the past three, ever since Stiles forced him to get out of bed.

“Remember the days where I was the one complaining whenever you dragged me out into the woods in the middle of the night?”

Derek glares at him, but he stays blessedly quiet. It’s not even that early – he’d say leaving at four in the afternoon was a fair compromise – but Derek bristles at anything physical that doesn’t involve him and Stiles in a bed or a pull-up bar.

“Oh shut up, sourwolf. You love the forest.”

He gets stopped when Derek abruptly pulls on his elbow. He stumbles, trying not to fall over and break his neck, and Derek steadies his, drawing Stiles into his waist. Derek inhales, nostrils flaring as he breathes in the scent of _forest_ and _Stiles_ – though the last one isn’t that new, really, Derek should know better.

“Stop smelling me,” Stiles mumbles after a while, when Derek’s been silent way too long and Stiles is tempted to run away and have Derek chase after. Just like a few years ago, when they were still feeling a little, well, _adventurous._

Derek buries his head in Stiles neck, his nose running over the skin before he softly bites down. He sucks the skin into his mouth, softly pulling and _Jesus._ Stiles hears himself letting out a soft sound that sounds suspiciously much like a moan and Derek grins against his neck. Stiles rolls his eyes and tangles his fingers in Derek’s hair, pulling him up into a soft kiss.

“Catch me if you can,” Stiles mumbles against his lips, turning away and sprinting through the trees, laughing as he hears Derek growl from behind him.

 

-

 

“Oh my god, this is all your fault,” Stiles moans as they walk off the camp site. Stiles had intended to watch the sunset with Derek, maybe make out a little, but Derek had to go and _distract_ him, so now it’s already dark and Stiles has a fresh set of hickeys on his neck.

“You didn’t seem to be complaining a few minutes ago,” Derek snorts, cuffing the back of Stiles’ head. Stiles glares at him, but the row of bruises on his skin and his messed up hair probably make him look less intimidating than he should be.

“That’s because you were distracting me with your _assets_.”

Derek just pushes him further ahead in response, making Stiles stumble over a log – this is why he _hates_ the forest – and they walk the rest of the way in silence.

They do this every once in a while. Go for a quote-unquote romantic camping trip together, which involves a lot of grumbling from Derek’s part – who pretends he doesn’t love every minute of it – and Stiles – who always ends up _ruined_ after a few days, and not just because he’s used to sleeping on a mattress. The woods just seem to do _wonderful_ things to Derek’s libido.

Derek’s sex drive aside, the camping trip is actually pretty fun. Stiles gets to laugh whenever Derek’s head shoot up as he hears a squirrel or a deer scurrying past, and Derek gets to hold his hand and watch the sunset together and pretend he’s not a hopeless romantic.

Stiles snorts a bit at that. If anyone had told him that Derek Hale would be a _romantic_ who loved giving Stiles _flowers_ , he’d have laughed at them so hard his dick fell off.

They stop at the edge of a lake. It’s barely a lake really, more of an oversized puddle, but they’d found it on their second trip here and they’ve come here ever since. Stiles blushes as they walk past a clearing covered in moss, remembering when Derek had chased him over there and pinned him down and-

He blushes, looking away and to the pier, where Derek’s already sitting. He cocks his head for a second, nostrils flaring as he scents the air and then he grins smugly when he realizes what Stiles had been staring at.

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” Stiles grumbles as he lets Derek pull him down, settling in the vee of Derek’s legs, Derek’s arm around his waist and his face on his shoulder. Stiles shivers as he feels Derek against him. Derek’s always fucking warm and Stiles abuses it to no end.

“I’d rather get you full of me.”

Stiles laughs, throwing his head back against Derek’s shoulder, letting Derek nose at the crevice between his neck and his shoulder. It feels comfortable, sitting like this, Derek curled around him like another wolf’s going to jump out at any second and he has to shield Stiles from danger. Stiles gets it, kind of. Derek loves the woods, loves the clean air and the other animals, but Stiles knows it also reminds him of Laura and his parents and Peter, back when everything was different.

“You feeling okay?” Stiles asks after a while and Derek nods.

Stiles doesn’t even bother to hide his smile.

 

-

 

He’s rummaging around in his bag for marshmallows when they’re back, hair sticking up in all directions because he could _swear_ he brought some marshmallows with him. Isaac actually helped him find it in the supermarket – having werewolf friends did come with its perks – and he’s sure he brought them along, trying to hide them from Derek but he can’t find them.

“Looking for these?”

He turns around to find Derek waving the bag of marshmallows around, a smug grin on his face and _god_ , Stiles could punch him right now. He stands up to grab the bag from Derek, but Derek dodges his arm easily, just leaning out of the way as his smirk grows bigger.

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles grumbles. “Just - give it here - oh my god.”

“How about we trade?”

Stiles stops at that, steps back to look at Derek, who has his arms crossed behind his back and a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Trade for what?” he asks cautiously, watching as the smirk on Derek’s face grows impossibly bigger. Derek steps forward, until they’re pressed together, Derek’s breath fanning out over his face.

“I think, “Derek mumbles. “I think you can figure something out.”

Stiles takes a second to blink dumbly, watching Derek’s gaze flicker from his mouth to his eyes and back again, before he grabs the back of Derek’s neck and pulls him in. Derek’s mouth is soft against his, opening up as Derek’s hands roam over his back, gliding over the small of his back. Stiles tangles his fingers in Derek’s hair, pulling his head as their mouths glide over each other, Derek swallowing the sounds Stiles is making.

“Is that,” he mumbles against Derek’s neck when he pulls back. “That a fair enough trade for you?”

He grabs the bag and winks at Derek before walking out, swaying his hips a bit _just_ to make Derek regret his decision to ever mess with Stiles.

He feels Derek’s gaze on him until he disappears out of sight.

 

-

 

They’re both yawning when the fire dies out, marshmallows long-eaten. Stiles wipes his fingers on his pants in a futile attempt to make them less sticky, but it just ends up with him getting a lot of fluff and dirt stuck to it.  


“‘M going to wash my hands,” he tells Derek, who nods sleepily as he stands up, stretching his back and cracking his neck before walking into the tent. Stiles takes a second to stare at Derek’s ass, because he still can’t believe he gets to hit that sometimes. Also, _damn_ , that ass.

When he gets back to the tent, Derek’s lying in a nest of blankets, boxers still on. Stiles takes a moment to reminisce about how much of a shame that is before he strips of his own shirt and pants. Derek whines in his throat as he looks up. Derek’s eyes are half-lidded and he has an arm outstretched toward Stiles, silently begging him to come cuddle with him.

“You’re so needy,” Stiles mumbles as he lies down next to him and Derek just shrugs and immediately rolls himself on top of Stiles. “And also heavy, Jesus Christ.”

Derek groans as he shifts his weight off Stiles, like moving causes him physical distress – which it probably does at this point, but Stiles is allowed to complain when he has a two hundred pound werewolf on top of him. Who’s solely made of muscles. Delicious, squishy muscles.

“Sleep, Stiles,” Derek breathes, and burrows back into the nape of Stiles’ neck. Derek’s leg slips between his as Derek pulls him impossibly closer, and Stiles feels the corners of Derek’s mouth turn upwards against his skin.

Stiles smiles back, burying his head in Derek’s bicep and listens to the rain as it bounces off their tent, the rhythm lulling him to sleep. The last thing he feels before he falls asleep is the small kiss Derek presses to the back of his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, I hope you liked it? Please tell me? 
> 
> I might make this into a short serie of Derek and Stiles being cute and domestic together, but that depends on my friends' gay rambles :p
> 
>  
> 
> [I also have a tumblr? Please talk to me if you want to, I promise I'm nice ^^](http://redeyedwrath.tumblr.com)


End file.
